


How to Kill Your Best Friend's Cat

by slashtext



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky finds a kitten, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sam Wilson can see right through your shit Steve, Steve Rogers is Not Jealous of a Cat, mention of Steve/Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 18:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2742218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashtext/pseuds/slashtext
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve doesn't mind Bucky rescuing a stray kitten, he just doesn't like sharing his name with a mangy, spiteful hairball. Why did Bucky have to name the cat "Stevie," anyway?</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Kill Your Best Friend's Cat

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from silverlakelodge:  
> "Bucky adopts an animal, (dog or cat) which has lost a limb in an accident. Becomes crazy protective/attached and inseparable. Names it after something he actually remembers of his pre-hydra days. Torments the other Avengers with it and trains it to particularly be a (cute!) pest to Steve."
> 
> So, instead of making this fluff...I went in an entirely different direction.

 

Bucky still doesn't know how to ask for what he wants, so he demands instead. He drinks all the orange juice and doesn't leave a note, he goes on day-long walks around the city without any notice, and he insists on sleeping anywhere but his bed. Steve is glad for the quiet acts of rebellion, but he can't stand the hours spent alone in their apartment in Stark Tower, hoping Bucky hasn't gotten himself into trouble, or had a panic attack, or god forbid run into a Hydra agent, or almost worse - the press. Technically speaking, the government hasn't cleared Bucky to be out on his own, but it's hard to keep a leash on brilliant assassin with the impulse control of a toddler.

"We could just use an actual leash," Tony suggested once.

 Steve knew he was kidding, but Bucky's face turned a scary shade of white, and that was the last time anyone mentioned restraints.

At least Bucky listens to Steve, most of the time, when a direct order is given, but that isn't a power Steve wants to use, even if it means letting Bucky out of his sight for hours, not knowing if he'll ever come back.

Usually, Bucky comes home quietly, slinking into the apartment long after Steve has gone to bed. When he strolls through the door , Steve is almost too shocked by his arrival to notice the tuft of orange fuzz poking out of his jacket. Bucky pulls open the coat, and out pops a kitten, no bigger than Steve's hand. It's the most pitiful animal Steve's ever seen: scraggly fur matted with dirt, scrawny legs with over-sized feet, and a chunk missing from it's left ear. 

"I found him," Bucky says, offering the kitten up for Steve's inspection.

Steve leans in close, but doesn't touch, trying to figure out if the thing is even alive. He can see it shaking from head to tail, the rows of its ribs expanding in stops and starts from its labored breathing.

"Where?" Steve asks.

 "In an alley. There was a big dog trying to get at him."

"He doesn't look so good."

Bucky stares at Steve, his eyes wide but empty, mouth drawn into a severe line. "Do you want me to kill him?"

"No!" Steve plucks the kitten out of Bucky's hands, and it gives him a raspy, ungrateful hiss. 

"Okay," Bucky says, hands still outstretched. "What are you going to do with him?" 

Steve feels dangerous, holding something so breakable. "I don't know." 

"I can take care of him," Bucky says, and Steve looks up to see a flash of hope coming over his face. 

Maybe Bucky needs this, Steve thinks. Then again, he could accidentally crush it with his metal fingers, and that would end in blood and tears from the cat, Bucky, and probably the whole tower. "He's really sick, Bucky."

"I know." Bucky nods, still holding out his hands, waiting for the cat. "I can fix him. I had a cat, once."

"Yeah," Steve says, dusting off a memory of a newborn kitten they found in a trashcan. That kitten grew up just fine, to steal scraps from the kitchen and scatter paw-prints over Bucky's Ma's clean laundry. "I remember that."

 "You weren't there."

Steve's sighs, but hands the cat over anyway. He's learned not to argue with the holes in Bucky's memories.

"You gonna give the cat a name?" Steve asks.

Bucky tilts his head, rubbing his human fingers over the kitten's bony spine. "Stevie."

"You're naming him after me?" Steve's heart catches in his throat. It's been so long since Bucky said his name like that, soft and reverent.

"No." Bucky glares. "I'm not calling him Captain America, I'm calling him _Stevie_."

"Oh," Steve says lamely. Of course - he's not really Steve, not anymore, not to Bucky. And now he's being replaced by a half-dead cat. "Well you better get him cleaned up. I'll put some warm water in the sink."

"I can do it," Bucky says, already heading for the bathroom like he's on a mission.

Steve watches him walk down the hallway, long enough to see Bucky lift the kitten to his face and drop a soft kiss on the top of it's head.

 

Over the next week, they learn that Stevie the Cat has bad breathing, a broken leg, is missing a few toes, and hates Steve. It has a terrible temper, which it likes to vent by knocking full cups of coffee onto the floor, and immediately claims Steve's favorite spot on the couch. Not to mention, it's stealing Steve's best friend. Bucky hardly spends a second apart from the cat - they even sleep together, in Bucky's bed. Steve tries not to be bitter, especially with Bucky finally getting a full night of sleep, but the cat's always underfoot like it's begging to be stepped on, or getting into the kitchen cabinets, or digging it's pitiful little claws in Steve's pants.

 Bucky's the only one the cat seems to like, and Bucky's nicer to the cat than any living thing he's come in contact with since he got back. They play together, with bits of string, or just Bucky's hand, since the cat can't claw up the metal one. Bucky lets the thing bat at his hair, ride on his shoulders, and fall asleep purring in his lap.

If Steve tries to pet it, the little brat always draws blood.

"Why's he hate me so much?" Steve mutters one day, rinsing out his newest cut in the kitchen sink.

"He doesn't hate you," Bucky says, startling Steve with the rough sound of his rarely-used voice. "You're too big. You scare him."

 

"So, how's Stevie?" Sam asks a few weeks later when he comes to visit.

Steve glowers into his coffee and tries to think up a polite answer. Impolitely, he hates the cat. It's doubled in size and attitude since Bucky brought it to the tower, and managed to make a ratty mess of their apartment. The drapes were its first victim, followed by the, sofa, and the bathroom rugs. Not to mention the dusting of kitty litter covering the bathroom, the stray bits of cat food that have made their way into almost every room, and the fur covering every surface, even Steve's uniform. Besides which, the thing tries to chew on Steve's fingers every chance it gets.

Even worse, Bucky loves the thing, lavishes attention on it, and smiles at it. Bucky hasn't started smiling at Steve yet, but Stevie the Cat gets smiles, hugs, kisses, and even gets to sleep on Bucky's pillow.

"Well, Bucky sleeps in his bed now, with the cat, so I guess that's good." Steve says, stabbing at his pancakes.

"So Bucky really nursed him back to health?"

Steve lets out a dry laugh. "I doubt that thing will ever be healthy. It's still missing some toes and half an ear. One of it's legs was broken when he found it, and that's still healing up. Thing's a mess."

"But it's doing better. And Bucky's doing better, so it's still a win." Sam shrugs. "Besides, it's nice having pets around."

"You say that now, but you're not the one pulling cat hair out of your toothbrush."

"Do I want to know how your toothbrush got fur in it?"

"I don't even know how it got there," Steve groans. "It's everywhere. That stupid cat runs around like it owns the whole apartment. I swear he's been smuggling it to his therapy sessions."

"Animal therapy can be really good for people. It sounds like he's been getting a lot better since he found Stevie," Sam says, casually eating his pancakes in small, easy bites, while Steve mashes his into the plate with his fork.

"He's not really getting better," Steve replies dismally. "The cat's the only thing he talks to. He still won't talk to me, but he talks to the cat."

Sam gives Steve a once-over with narrowed eyes. "Wait a second. Are you - you're jealous of the cat."

"What?" Steve sputters, nearly dropping his fork into his mutilated pancakes. "Of course I'm not, that's ridiculous."

"Yes, you are," Sam says with a grin. "You think Bucky likes Stevie better than you."

"Oh, he definitely likes the cat more than me." Steve gives up all pretense of trying to eat, and gets up to dump his plate in the sink. "But I'm not jealous of a cat."

Sam rolls his eyes, and keeps eating. "Did he say he likes the cat better?

"He doesn't have to say anything - he smiles at it, Sam. And I mean a nice smile, not like he's about to shoot someone."

"Well, he did name it after you. Maybe that's his way of trying to reconcile with the past. Name a sick little cat after you, and try to make him well. You were really sick as a kid, right?"

Steve shakes his head bitterly. "Yeah, but you know how he is. Everything's disconnected for him. I think he remembers us being kids together, maybe even going to war together, but he doesn't think that's me. I don't want to know what he thinks I am."

"He'll figure it out. Let him work through this," Sam says, walking over to Steve to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. "And in the meantime stop being jealous of the cat. That's pathetic."

"I'm not jealous." Steve glares. "I just want it to quit clawing up my pillows."

"You know what? I bet you're just mad about having another cat around."

"Another cat?"

"Yeah - because you're already a cat. Explains why you can jump out of a building and still land on your feet."

Steve wants to tell him how impossible that is, but instead he just laughs, and lets Sam pull him into a hug.

  

It takes another month before Stevie gets big enough to cause real trouble. Steve thought the ruined carpet and clawed upholstery was bad enough, but that was before coming home from a mission to find every piece of furniture up-ended, ever cabinet flung open, and Bucky standing amidst the ransacked mess looking visibly distressed.

Steve wants to be angry, but Bucky hasn't looked this terrified since Tony joked about the leash.

"What happened?" Steve sighs, setting his shield and helmet down by the door.

Bucky clenches his fists, trying to collect himself, and whispers, "Stevie."

For a half second, Steve’s heart stops before he realizes Bucky isn’t actually talking to him. "The cat?"

Bucky nods.

"You can't find him?" Steve asks, starting to worry at Bucky’s heartbroken expression.

Another nod. "He's not in the apartment."

"What? Are you sure?"

Bucky glares. "Yes. I checked."

The odds of Bucky not finding a target were pretty low, but then again, they were talking about a cat small enough that Steve was constantly at risk of stepping on it, so there was a possibility that they just hadn't thought of everywhere to look.

"Where do you think he went?" Steve asked, too tired from fighting monsters all day to care about one dim-witted cat.

"I don't know," Bucky whispered, clenching his jaw and staring resolutely at the ground.

He looks so broken that Steve wants to wrap him up in a blanket and tell him everything will be alright. Of course, Bucky would never allow that kind of coddling, not anymore.

"Okay, okay," Steve says, trying to rub the creeping headache out of his temples. "Let me change and I'll help you search the tower."

 

The search lasts all day, with Steve and Bucky canvasing every floor, Clint checking the vents, and Pepper setting out treats. Tony and Bruce set up Jarvis to scan the entire tower, but only succeed in learning that the tower actually does have a few mice.

"What the fuck is wrong with your computer?" Bucky shouts, before stalking back to their floor.

"It's not my fault your cat's so small it's invisible." Tony gripes. "Maybe you should feed it."

"It's not my goddamn cat," Steve says, hurrying to catch up with Bucky.

As awful as he feels, Steve half hopes the cat never turns up. The nerve of that thing, bailing on Bucky like this, when he was just starting to act like a person again. Steve should have known better than to let him get so attached to that ungrateful hairball in the first place.

He changes his mind as soon as he walks in the door to the apartment, and sees Bucky curled up next to the couch.

"Buck?" Steve inches toward him, palms out, crouching to make himself smaller.

Bucky burrows his head deeper into his arms, his back shaking a little from his ragged breathing.

"Can I sit with you?" Steve asks. Bucky doesn't move, which is as close to agreement as he ever gets. Steve settles on the ground next to him, not quite touching, but close enough to see a wet sheen on his cheeks under his heavy hair. 

"He hates me," Bucky whispers.

"No, I'm the one he hates," Steve says, edging a little closer. "You said I scare him."

Bucky shakes his head. "I'm scarier." 

Steve can't help but reach out, resting his fingertips against Bucky's right shoulder. "I bet he's more scared of being without you."

"Then why did he disappear?" Bucky whispers, leaning into Steve's hand just slightly.

Steve rubs his thumb over the fabric of Bucky's sweatshirt, amazed to be so close to him. Bucky had been keeping his distance since he turned himself over to Steve five months ago, and even though the shared a floor, they rarely spoke, and never touched. Sometimes Bucky called him "Captain," but he never used Steve's name.

"I don't know," Steve says. "Cats get curious about stuff. Maybe he wanted to do something new."

"Staying with me wasn't good enough."

"Don't be like that. You get to leave the apartment all the time. Why wouldn't he want to?"

"He's small, and sick," Bucky grates out. "He wouldn't last a day."

"You don't get to decide that. It might be good for him to go see the world, learn how to take care of himself."

"I like him fine how he is." Bucky stares mutinously at the floor, flinching away from Steve's touch.

"What, helpless?" Steve asks, failing to keep his voice soft. "You can't just keep him locked up because you're scared he'll outgrow you. People change." 

Bucky stares at Steve, his eyes wide and red, and that's when Steve realizes why the conversation sounds so familiar. They had this fight a million times before the war, always starting with Bucky's excessive coddling, and ending in Steve slinking away to the roof to sulk.

"Cats change," Steve corrects, rubbing at his temples.

Bucky's frozen next to him, still searching Steve's face like he's trying to see under his skin.

"The roof," Steve stays, an idea lighting in his head as he meets Bucky's gaze. "When I was mad at you I used to go up to the roof of our old building. Maybe that's where Stevie is."

Bucky frowns and shakes his head. "He couldn't get up there."

"Some of the vents lead to the roof. Or he might have followed you on your way out." Steve rises to his feet and offers Bucky a hand. "Maybe that's why Jarvis couldn't find him in the tower." 

"I was up there this morning," Bucky says, gingerly placing his right hand in Steve's. "And then he was gone when I came back."

"It's worth a look." 

Steve pulls Bucky to his feet, and they head to the roof with a bag of cat treats and a flashlight. They make a ridiculous pair: two big guys creeping around the rooftop shaking a bag of treats, snapping their fingers, and calling "here, Stevie" into the darkness. It takes all of five minutes, before Bucky spots him, shaking under an air condition unit.

He hisses at Bucky, crouching back with his hair on end, and Bucky looks to Steve helplessly. It's probably the first time the cat's ever been angry at him.

"He's just scared after being up here alone for so long," Steve says. "Just grab him, he'll settle down."

Bucky wraps his metal hand around the scruff of Stevie's neck, and drags him out spitting and swinging. He's harder to hold than he was when Bucky first found him, but they manage to wrangle him back to the apartment with only a few claw marks on their skin.

Stevie bolts straight under the couch as soon as they get inside, leaving Bucky to mill around the apartment, his shoulder drooping lower with every step. 

By midnight, Stevie still hasn't left his hiding spot except to eat, drink, and use his litter box, hissing at Bucky and Steve when they get too close. Bucky finally goes to bed, sitting fully clothed on top of his covers with the door wide open, inviting the cat back to his usual spot, but Stevie won't take the bait.

"You gonna sleep tonight?" Steve asks before heading to his own room.

"I shouldn't have left him," Bucky mutters, sagging against the pillows. "It's all my fault." 

"He'll come around," Steve says, stepping across the room to sit down at the very end of the bed.

Bucky shakes his head. "He doesn't even remember me."

Steve chokes down a laugh, and pats his hand over Bucky's ankle. "Bucky, seriously?"

Bucky looks up, biting his bottom lip miserably, like his mom caught him stealing cookies. It was just the same face, right down to the line between his furrowed brows.

"He's a cat who got stuck on a roof for a few hours," Steve says, breaking into a wide grin. "If you can pull through, so can he."

"But I’m still not _right_."

"Yeah, me neither." Steve scoots closer up the bed, his hand still resting on Bucky's leg. "But we're gonna be okay anyway. You, and me, and Stevie."

Bucky surges forward, flinging his arms around Steve in a hug that nearly topples them both to the floor. Steve fists his hands in Bucky's sweatshirt, and breathes in the dusky scent of his hair, still a little familiar despite the passing years and new shampoo.

"Promise?" Bucky chokes out, nuzzling into Steve's shoulder.

"I promise," Steve says, smiling and tearing up at all once. "We'll be great. Even though your cat wants me dead."

Bucky draws back from the hug, just enough for Steve to see his lips curling at the corners. “He’ll come around.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come check out my [tumblr](www.sonickitty.tumblr.com) for more supersoldiers and cats. <3


End file.
